NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
Friday night, I did Friday night things, and some of those things were done in close proximity to Wifey. And if I had to guess, I’d say those things were done well within a 6′ radius of her. I also sat my ass on the back porch by myself and enjoyed the sunny, warm (60˚!) spring evening with a tasty beverage or three. All of that was a great way to end a day of running (or riding) away from problems via exercise and high ABVs.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
Friday promised to be another ride-worthy day. And since it’s not like I could/would/should have done anything else, I rode my bike.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____
The title of this post could be referring to the amount of (Lola) dog hair I find in, on, around, beside, below, and above almost every piece of furniture, in every room, and in every orifice in the house (don’t ask). But it’s not.
A 30-mile dirt road ride with roughly 5 feet of elevation gain should not be a big deal. And it’s NOT. Unless you’re a fat moron, recovering from an ankle sprain, who has been on his bike exactly 3(?) times in the past four weeks and waited until the hottest and windiest time of the day to ride his bike.
But, that’s what happened; c’est la vie.
My life, am I right?
Mistakes were made. Again.
Wednesday night as I looked at the next day’s schedule of Dad duties, house duties, and a mid-afternoon appointment with my mind bender, I made the decision that I would get up with the dogs at 5:45 AM, get them fed and outside to poop, then immediately get out for a ride. This would have me home in plenty of time to get B to his morning conditioning session at the soccer fields.
It’s been so long since I’ve had time to post anything here, I think I forgot how to write.
It’s been a few days since my last entry to this interweb hosted pixelated dung heap. There is a good reason for that: I haven’t been riding.
Monday was an OK-ish ride in the morning, and a HOT early evening in Midland watching B’s JV team get trounced while I sweat all over myself and anyone in a 30-foot radius of my gelatinous body. I don’t know how a person can produce as much sweat as I do just standing there, it really is disgusting and a tad embarrassing.
On Wednesday morning Wifey headed to Chicago for a three-day meeting at HQ, and I snuck out for a morning ride in the dreary mist, happy to be out on my bike after working the balls of Tuesday in the shop.
